Tag: poem
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Night Leaves the Latch Open
The sky forgets its thunder,clouds fold their arms—somewhere,a moth dreams of moonlight. Your breath slows.The world blurslike ink in rain. Stars peerthrough curtain cracks,gentle voyeursto a silenceall dreamers know. Let clocks keep timewithout you.Let the weight fallfrom your shoulders,like moonbeams. You’ve done enough. Close your eyes.The dark knows the way.It will carry you now,wherever you…
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Tearing Sunshine
Mum moves like rinse water—warm, grey,going where she’s poured.Hands red-rawfrom bleach and bonesshe can’t scrub clean.She hums when she’s bone-tired,not for tune,just to keep from cracking. Dad says work is hard—but only ever sits,rail grease on his boots,beer in hand,trophy beside him:Highest Goal Scorer,1983. He holds it like a woundthat never scabbed.Says he could’ve been…
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First Smoke
I lit it behind the shedwith a match I struck on the tin—my thumb raw from trying. The cigarette trembledbetween fingers that still knewLego and scraped knees. I didn’t cough.Didn’t blink.Just held the burn inlike I was keeping a secretonly smoke could understand. The dog watched,head tilted,like he knew I’d crossedinto something I couldn’t uncross.…
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New chapbook on Amazon
I’m excited to announce that my new chapbook is published and available for kindle on Amazon. Paperback to be released shortly. Book overview Things That Shouldn’t Be Beautiful (But Are)Poems by Ryan Stone A jellyfish that never dies.A swan that stays after love is gone.A beetle with mirrors for eyes.This quietly astonishing collection brings together…
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The Stack
Miss Carr was the strict one—hair wired tight,skirts to the shin,a voice of rulesand overdue fines. The library breathed her name.Quiet, please.Return on time.Hands to yourself. I once saw her shush the deputy principal,and he apologised. We said she slept in the archives,alphabetised her dreams,quietened ghosts for sport. She didn’t see me—tucked in Fiction,in the…
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Out Here, the Light Fails Slower
Above us, the wind leans into nothing.Below, fenceposts mark the long retreatof boundary lines no one remembers drawing. Somewhere beyond this paddock,a child flicks a torch on and off—signalling to no one,or to the stars. High overhead,a satellite drifts,blind but listening. Closer in,a man stacks firewoodby feel alone,his breath silverin the cold. He doesn’t look…
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Southern Cross
Some nights,when the wind shiftsand the silence settles deep,I step out barefootonto the cold veranda. Above the gum trees—the Southern Cross,low and steady,like it’s waiting for meto notice. It doesn’t blaze,just holds its shape,a quiet thingpointing the wayI’ve always knownbut needed to remember. Not a map.Not a promise.Just a reminderthat homeisn’t something you reach—it’s the…
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Red Wagon
I pulled my dog through summers,tongue lolling in the heat,ears twitching at beesand things only he could hear. The wagon rattled like laughterover cracked footpaths,and I—captain of that small red ship—knew no world beyondthe corner storeand the shade beneath our tree. It was enough. Now I carry more—keys, deadlines, debt,the ache of wantingwhat I used…
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Almost Eden
You knew.She knew.It was thick in the air —like rain that never falls. Her hand on the doorframe.Yours in your pocket,clenched around nothing. The storm had passed.But the heat hadn’t broken. She looked at youlike you were the answerto a question she wasn’t supposed to ask. And you looked at herlike a manmeasuring the cost…
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Letter to My Sons
Boys, When the fire comes—and it will—don’t run.Stand your ground. Feel the heat. Know what’s worth burning.Not everything you carry needs to be saved. You’ll be told to move fast, talk loud, win more.Don’t listen to that.The quiet men are the ones you want near when things fall apart. If your hands shake, that’s fine.So…
